


Long Overdue Satisfaction

by RobuttsInYourThighs



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2015)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Bondage, Captivity, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Forced, Kidnapping, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Touching, Self-Indulgent, Unwilling Participant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobuttsInYourThighs/pseuds/RobuttsInYourThighs
Summary: Thunderhoof is a hard workin mech. He deserves some tlc, and what better person to know exactly how he likes it but himself. All the better when you have someone to show off in front of.Non-con in the sense that he's going to have some fun with himself in front of an unwilling participant.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	1. Hard Workin' Mech

He dropped himself into his beaten chair heavily, knowing he heard something creak and possibly snap under his weight. He wanted to pretend he didn’t care but he most certainly did. It irked him. It irked him BEYOND WORDS that he was still fighting and grappling his way back up the totem pole. Cybertron was well on its way to full revival with so many natives returning after the end of the war. Thunderhoof should consider himself lucky, or so some fools dared to tell him, but he knew that he deserved more.

The tractor had managed to barely scrape by while teaming up with Steeljaw back on that dirt planet and knew he just needed to spread his wings and get his own team together to REALLY thrive. He’d done pretty well after managing yet another escape from Autobot custody. He was slowly carving out his niche again, coming across some colorful mechs that were very interested in some barter and trade that happened to align with his more sophisticated tastes. In spite of the time and energy he’d put into his new ventures he was still bitterly waiting for his payoff, which is what landed him here in his slummy, barely large enough for a minibot, apartment.

The mech stretched himself back in his poor excuse of a chair more, ignoring the warning creak and groan of the furniture. It had been a long day of practically doing ALL of the legwork for his jobs since good help was still hard to come by. He deserved a little fun and relaxation, he decided, even if he needed to once again do all the work himself. Gunmetal gray fingers slid over his thighs, using the friction to warm his palms and stimulate his legs just enough to start getting in the mood. He had been working his tailpipe off, he deserved a little reward.

His hands worked their ways a little higher on his thighs, kneading his aching cables in the vertex where his hips and legs joined. He slid even further down in his chair, letting his helm rest on the top of the seat and bringing a heavy pede up, propping it on the low-set table before him and helping his legs relax and stay open. Thunderhoof sent a quick command to his eagerly warming interface panels to open, wanting to give himself some top-notch treatment all around. His valve and spike coverings retracted smoothly and the mech brought both hands in, one grasping the base of his gray-plated spike while the other pressed well-trained digits between his black valve lips.

He grunted to himself, optics shut, as he began to stroke his cord lazily. He knew just when to squeeze towards the head, when to let off the pressure and pull downwards, when to pause and help his valve catch up. At least his exterior node needed the attention. He wasn’t exactly a penetration-appreciative kind of guy, but he always enjoyed the extra sensitive node being stimulated. The extra fluids were a huge help when he switched servos, the wetness transferring from the other hand to his spike and making it all the more smooth of a tug and pull.

Thunderhoof liked to take his time when he was alone like this. Sure he could just go to town, beat one out and call it a day, but where was the style? The FUN? He took extra time to really work over every sensory node on his spike, giving each one time and attention and rubbing his thumb over them if he paused. His fans were kicking up and he didn’t notice when he’d had his engine rumbling, but it was all welcome background noise to the ambiance of his self-servicing session. He felt his valve’s calipers reflexively cycle down on nothing when he really started to give it to his exterior node, the fluids dripping out and out from between his fingers when they slid down. Why not give himself a treat, huh? He deserved it. Two fingers slid in, pressing his palm heavily into the lips and letting the pressure of his servo rocking up and down help work his node.

His other servo tightened on his spike and he sucked in an intake through his teeth, grinning to himself. Oh yeah, now was when he just gave himself his all. It felt right. His fingers slid over his member even faster, catching a bit of weeping transfluid from the tip and worked it over himself along with his valve’s juices. He adjusted his speed and his grip, giving himself just enough resistance to stimulate every heavy ridge of his spike, stretching it only a little when he pulled upward toward the tip and forcing it back through his grip like only the sweetest valve one could only DREAM of. He was so close, his propped up leg twitching and bending more when jolts of pleasure started to pulse along with his sparkbeat throughout his limbs.

The once-mafioso’s mind suddenly began to wander, lost in his bliss of push and pull into his palm, the other still grinding into his node and barely teasing his valve to keep it in the game. Thoughts of his former conquests, images of bodies willingly splayed out before and under him, sometimes on top honestly, and almost all looking at him with the deepest appreciation and RESPECT.

“UHF, yeah,” he grunted to himself, fist pumping aggressively fast over his spike. He missed it, oh Primus he missed those that actually RESPECTED him, that knew he was worth their gaze and DAMN did he need that. He choked back a moan as he finally overloaded into his fingers, his foot raising and stomping down blindly while lost in bliss. Energy surged through him and transfluid splattered over his abdomen and thighs. The mech’s body tensed and he raised his hips up and into his palm as if to buck into some pretty little thing on his lap, the kind of cutie he deserved, someone looking at him with admiration and crying for him.

There was a snap.

All at once the mech was thrown out of his blissful overload and physically onto the floor, sprawled on top of a heap that was once his chair. He was a ridiculous sight; He had bits of the lousy furniture jabbed into his back and side, part of his leftmost antler had gouged the floor and gave his neck an unpleasant jolt on impact he was just now feeling, and on top of everything he was smeared with his own transfluid over his hands, torso, and thighs. All of his pleasure, his feelings of relaxation and ease, left him. His hard work for NOTHING! Nothing but a damned mess! Growling and cursing he heaved himself upward and onto his pedes, his equipment quickly retracting and rehousing while his mind shifted gears to the mess around him. “You gotta be FRAGGING ME!” He kicked his coffee table away and let it crash across the room, not caring what else it may take out.

He needed an escape, some form of reward for all of his strife and struggle and he couldn’t even have a simple self-service in his run down apartment. He deserved SO MUCH more than this! Thunderhoof worked hard, why couldn’t he have even an ounce of the comforts of old, huh? Was that so much to ask? He tisked and kicked more of the debris aside and placed his hands on his hips to think of who could bring him a new one. Ugh, his hand was wet and cold and he was just making a mess of himself. He sneered and spat at the offending clutter on the floor as he turned to leave for the wash rack. “I’ll deal with youse later,” he grumbled as if the chair were due for punishment for the offense of being garbage.

He was grateful for the incredibly hot solvent that reached his apartment, leaning his palms into the wall before him and flitting through his HUD behind shuttered optics. No, never would he contact that lobster crab whatever again. He used to have such a long list of potential bots to run errands for him but even back on Cybertron many were either already locked up, underground, or couldn’t be trusted as far as he could throw them. What a time to get a ping from his new associate!

: : Swindle, pal, what’s happening? : : He sounded cheerful enough through his comm.

: : Hey there, T.H. I’ve come into possession of some very, let’s say, delicate goods. Need someone who knows how to handle cargo with the UTMOST care, and I know you’re the best around! : : Swindle stoked the big buck’s ego expertly. : : Obviously you would be _well_ compensated for your troubles. Are you available for a rendezvous? : : Thunderhoof had to pause and re-circulate this information through his processor. Swindle was offering to “compensate _well_ ” for services? Interesting.

: : Oh, I suppose I could make time for it. I’ll send a couple of the boys over-- : :

: : Ohho no, this is a _very_ special package. One for only the most trustworthy mechs like yourself to be trusted with. I’ll need to personally hand it off to you, : : he sounded more serious and firm, using his “I won’t go any lower” bargaining voice. Thunderhoof considered it a moment.

: : What’s in it for me? : : He asked bluntly and without any mischief, wanting to get to business if it was this big a job.

: : Let’s see, accounting for my service fees, labor, materials, : : Swindle began prattling off all of his upfront costs.

: : Whoa, hold it pal, you chargin’ me for YOUR transport??? : : He threw the door to his shower open and strode into the drying room. Swindle laughed over the comm nervously.

: : Not at all! This is a joint operation, I’m needing to transport this for a customer, so I’ve got to cover my own costs before I can go doling out cuts to my _partner_ in this. : : Thunderhoof slapped the button to activate the heated air to blow down from above, ridding himself of any remaining moisture from his shower. Partner… he liked the sound of that.

: : Alright alright, I’m interested, I’ll give ya that, but don’t get it twisted around. You better be upfront with my cut when I arrive, I ain’t getting stiffed again. How much are you getting for the package? : :

Swindle hesitated, not wanting to lay it all out for the other, it would make it far too easy to tell that the greedy mech was trying to save the largest amount for himself. Thinking fast he started blurting out numbers. : : Well for the acquisition I had to pay several mechs off with about 5,000 Shanix a piece, so that took out of final payment. Then there was the materials for securing and prepping the transport, that was about 40,000. Of course, I have him housed, and housing is 10,000 easy-- : :

: : Him? : : Thunderhoof interjected smoothly and arched a brow at himself in his mirror as he checked over his finish for any signs of his earlier mess. The dealer was too quiet too long. He had him cornered now, he had some wiggle room. : : Swindle, : : he began with a smooth tone, his smile practically audible. : : Youse didn’t say we had LIVE cargo. That makes this all the more interesting an endeavor. My starting rate is 100,000 Shanix. : :

Swindle jumped up from his seat, slamming his palms down on his cluttered desk. : : THAT’S HIGHWAY ROBBERY! : : He shouted into his comm, gritting his teeth more when Thunderhoof began to laugh.

: : It ain’t robbery, pally pal, it’s just _business_ , : : the mostly cerulean mech stood tall and buffed out his glass with his best micro-fiber-cloth, pulling out some waxes next as he was sure he’d need to look presentable for this job. Swindle grumbled and was clearly re-calculating his expenses. : :Tick-tock, Swindle, time is money. : :

: : You’re telling me,: : he huffed. : : I’m going to have to… think about this. : : Thunderhoof frowned.

: : Oh no you don’t, you’re not gonna pop up with a job and back down just because you want to be cheap. How often did that strategy work out for ya, huh??! : : He couldn’t afford to lose such a tantalizing job, not when it would afford him so much comfort that he so desperately craved. : : I’m comin’ over. You crunch those numbers for me and I’ll meet you. Get the package ready. : :

: : Wh-Hey who are you trying to order around?! : : Swindle lost his patience at the other’s orders. : : I’ve got a mech in the wings who will be much more cost efficient, so don’t bother. You don’t even know where I am, so I’m not going to go telling you-- : :

: : I know where you are, Swindle, : : Thunderhoof chuckled darkly as he decided to forego the buff’n shine for the sake of getting out the door sooner before the cowardly dealer could bail. : : You always go to the same docks, same warehouses. I got my eyes and ears all over. Gotta keep tabs on my _associates_ after all. : : Swindle sank back into his chair and started flying through his numbers.

: : How kind, : : he grumbled. : : Eastern border sub-housing. Two blocks from my usual warehouse. I can give you your base rate. 100,000 Shanix. : :

: : Fantastic, when I get there we can discus my inconvenience fee. : : Thunderhoof didn’t bother locking up, he had nothing of value in the apartment.

: : CONVENIENCE FEE?! : : Ohhhh what a horrible word to throw at the mech. “Fee” was one of the worst words to use against Swindle, second only to “Penalty” and “surcharge”. What next? TAXES?! : : DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TRYING TO CHARGE ME A FEE! : : There was static feedback bouncing back at the end of his last transmission, the cocky mech having cut his comm off already. Swindle growled and got up to start prepping for the other’s arrival. His cargo was hot and ready to move as soon as possible.


	2. The "Friends" of Thunderhoof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thunderhoof just wants to not get screwed over for once, even if he has to start bulldozing everything and everyone to get some results.

A low growl emanated from the azure mech who stood solo in a wide alley between towering warehouses that had remained unused since Cybertron’s revival. He hissed out another billow of smoke from his cygar, the wisps of gray dancing in the light of a flickering nearby light and cast haunting shadows that twisted and splintered away just like the mech’s dwindling patience. Rude, that’s what this was, just plain RUDE.

How long did this slagger intend to keep him waiting? It was insulting, making him loiter in an alley like some low level battery peddler while the other took his precious time. HIS time was precious, too! Thunderhoof flicked the drained device away, the red-hot end trailing into the dark, bouncing off the wall opposite him and rolling back to him to be smothered under a cloven pede. He was about to open his comm and start chewing him out for the disrespect when the light beside him flipped off and back on. The mech tensed, his servo hanging mid-way to his subspace for his umpteenth cygar of the evening. His red optics focused on the ground the light shone on, not dumb enough to either be standing directly in its glow nor look up at the light source. Two more rapid flickers of the light had his spark whirling fast and hard in his chamber.

They’d been had. Fragging pitspawn no good lousy SWINDLER probably set him up! He’d begun moving before his optics registered the rapidly moving scenery. Voices started picking up behind him so he hustled his aft into the nearest unsecured door, being quiet as he could and making his way through the empty warehouse to duck out the opposite side.

: Boss! There’s Autoscum headin’ your way! :

: Too little too late! I’m already hoofin’ it! What good is a look out that doesn’t LOOK OUT?! : He snarled to himself when his antler caught a doorway, making him hook a hard right and run smack into a large shipping container. He’d have to bunk down and hope for the best with his boys so far off and low in numbers. He unbolted the container and slipped inside easily enough, being careful not to close it completely lest he be trapped inside if the bolt re-set. The once-con leaned against the wall of the storage container, pulling his field as tight as he could.

“You were right,” an unfamiliar voice chuckled. “He bolted outta here faster than a turbo rabbit.”

“Well I should hope so,” Swindle chuckled. “His goons were easy enough to fool, they ran and hid themselves the second they saw the flashing lights. Probably didn’t even need the Autobot badges.”

The blue buck immediately saw red and bulldozed through the shipping container door, slamming it open and catching the group of schmucks entirely by surprise. Swindle yelped and transformed immediately into his jeep alt in an attempt to speed off, the others either scrambling on foot or transforming as well in their haste.

“YOU DIRTY CROOK!” He roared and slammed his right hoof down with his signature excessive power, the resulting shockwave rippling through the floor of the warehouse in a ripple and sending each mech that was on the ground up into the air and crashing back down. Thunderhoof cracked his knuckles as he closed in on Swindle, pinging his own lackeys to return and round up the cowards that tried to scare him off.

“T.H.! W-wait, it isn’t what it looks like-!” Swindle cried out when he was snatched off the ground by his leg and swung roughly around to be released and thrown across the room and into the shipping container the larger mech had burst forth from. He landed in a heap near the back and again tried to get back up, freezing on hands and knees at the menacing bot blocking his path.

“So, you think you can yank me around, huh???” He curled his lip, vermilion optics flaring with rage.

“I-it was a misunderstanding, pal!” He tried to placate him with a wobbly smile and upturned palms that feigned innocence. “We were just coordinating before b-bringing ya in, you know? Make sure you weren’t followed,” he paused, optics darting back and forth from each of Thunderhoof’s. They were unmoved and only narrowed more. “How, uh, how much… did you hear?” His voice squeaked higher as he realized there was no talking his way out of this one.

Having had enough of the slag the other was putting him through for the night he stomped into the container, chasing the smaller yellow and purple mech into the back of the container and cornering him. At least his absolute terror did his spark good, inwardly preening at how well he could intimidate just by approaching someone. He dropped into a crouch, elbows on knees and body completely blocking the shady trader from any potential escape. He heaved a deep ex-vent, steam billowing from his collar and the seams just below his chest plating as composed himself. Swindle shuddered as the other rolled his helm carefully to the right and then to the left, rotating each shoulder and settling back into his original still crouch, red optics refocusing and pinpointing at the other.

“Swindle… _pal_...” He started, his voice making the jeep flinch. “I’m gonna need you to work with me here, alright?” The calm he portrayed was absolutely numbing for the cowering bot. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been at the brunt of the other’s anger and did not want a hands on reminder. When Swindle nodded very enthusiastically the buck continued. “I’m gonna need you to tell me where this cargo is.”

“I can’t tell you! It’s too risky to bring someone there ri-” Swindle shut his mouth when Thunderhoof clenched a fist, reassessing just how worth it would it be to back talk. Clearing his intake he tried again, more calmly. “I can take you right to it, but we have to be quick, I’m sure we’re gonna have badges out here any second after all that commotion.” Thunderhoof couldn’t help but scoff and shake his helm, pulling out a cygar from his subspace and bringing it to his lips. He lit the end of it and took a long drag on it, pulling it away pinched between two fingers and examining the glowing end of it calmly as he let the smoke roll out from the corners of his mouth before he blew it outward with more force.

The plume of thick white smoke wafted between the two bots, the red of Thunderhoof’s optics casting strange shadows through the veil before it cleared and he was leaning much closer into Swindle’s space. He steeled himself to not flinch away from him, lavender optics following the glowing red end of the cygar that was being brought closer and closer to his face.

“Let me try this nice an’ slow, hah? Help youse follow along so youse catch my meaning,” the mobster pulled the cygar away and took a second, shorter, drag of smoke and huffed it out with less care than the first. “I’m gonna need you,” he paused and locked optics with the other, “To _tell me_ ,” he pointed the red end of the cygar at himself, cocking a brow, “WHERE in the PITS,” he gestured vaguely with the device, “ _ **YOUR**_ ,” he pointed the flaking ember-tip very close to Swindle’s face, “high profile parcel ACTUALLY IS.” Swindle gulped and still, even now, hesitated.

“I… I really could just take you-ACK!” He was yanked up by the massive black servo grasping over his lower face and wrapping almost completely around the back of his helm and neck. He was pulled up and off his pedes, his own servos desperately grasping the large blue forearm of his assailant, legs swinging and kicking lightly as he fought down his building terror. Thunderhoof brought Swindle high up to meet his face, scoffing and shaking his helm, his hefty antlers looking like they weighed nothing with how they swung from the gesture.

“You got one last chance, pally pal, because NOW you’re startin’ to make me a LITTLE upset.” He popped the cygar into the corner of his lips, freeing his other hand to grab the top of the other’s helm, the weight alone making Swindle’s neck kibble creak. He slowly began to apply pressure. “You’re gonna start singing or you’re gonna be swinging, CAPICHE?!” Swindle’s answer was hurried and muffled into the other’s palm, still struggling as the pressure only increased, Thunderhoof looking so angry it seemed like he may very well just squash him without getting the location. Fretting and trying to convey his cooperation the crooked conman lifted a hand to give a thumbs-up.

Seeing the gesture Thunderhoof blinked and straightened his arms to get Swindle away from him a little, throwing his head back and barking a laugh as he completely released the other and let him fall on his aft.

“Forgot you can’t say much with your mouth all covered, can ya?” He snorted another chuckled and easily moved the cygar to the opposite end of his mouth, denta chomping down a little as he grinned. “Go on and send me something fun to read with the coordinates, hah?”

“You got it,” Swindle still growled unhappily, rubbing sore neck and working his jaw as he pinged an encrypted data packet with a pinpoint on a map. There were actually 3 little pinpoints. He saw the irritated twitch of the other’s brow and quickly filled him in. “It’s to throw anyone off, he’s in the middle of the points.” The larger mech hummed, contemplating the information a moment longer.

“Well, that’s awful clever of you ain’t it? Tell ya what, how about youse just take some time to relax? Stay here, take a load of. _I’ll_ handle this pesky package for ya.” He turned his back on the other and started to walk out of the shipping container, ignoring Swindle’s scraping pedes and pleas while he tried to get out. He caught a glimpse of the frightened crook before he sealed the door from the outside, enjoying the dull sounds of his fists hitting the inside of the door. “I’ll come back for you later, slagging pest.”

He surveyed the quiet warehouse, pleased that his men had appeared as he had requested and had piled Swindle’s unconscious companions in a corner and had them surrounded. That familiar lick of warm pride swelled out and he puffed his plating out, flexing his shoulders back in a more confident posture.

“There’s my boys,” he rumbled proudly as he started to walk to the warehouse doors. “Call in anyone who ain’t tied down. I got a feeling we hooked ourselves a big one.” The other mechs nodded or gave brief acknowledgements back to him, already calling in the rest of their contacts under Thunderhoof’s employ.

It was surprisingly quick work making his way to Swindle’s supposed hidden location for the parcel. He felt he would hardly care just _who_ this captive was or who they were originally supposed to be peddled off to, he would evaluate it himself and maybe even find a higher bidder?

The location in question was unassuming enough, and was simply in a completely cleared warehouse, the only thing suspicious about the location being just how clean it was; Hardly a speck of dust to be seen through the building? He rolled his denta side to side over the cygar, humming to himself as he tried to survey everything again and again with a critical optic. After coming up with nothing and even running a scan he snorted his frustration and pinched the cygar from his derma, calling Swindle.

: Alright, where is it? :

: Oh NOW you want me to show you? : The conman didn’t bother hiding his irritation, pacing in the dark container.

: I’m at spot you pointed out, building’s empty. WHERE IS IT?! : He growled and was ready to march back in and persuade him with his fists to spill it.

: There’s a control panel by the southern entrance, make sure you’re outside the door. There’s a code you’ll need. :

: Oh, a _code_ you say? : Thunderhoof scoffed and marched over to the southern door quickly enough. : I don’t suppose you’re going to just tell me are ya? : He eyed the console suspiciously, moving outside the door and noticing a change in how dense it sounded when he set his pede down.

: I could consider it, : Swindle chuckled to himself, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the door. : I’d rather enter it _for_ you, save you all the trouble. :

Thunderhoof snuffed and tapped his cloven pede down inside the door and noted how it sounded hollow and deep. : On second thought, I might not need it. : He grinned slowly and popped the cygar back in his mouth, being mindful of it burning shorter by now.

: W-wait… Hoof, pal, : The way fear entered his tone had the mobster feeling more confident that he’d unraveled the hiding place. Who needs a code when you’ve got strength? : If you enter the wrong code it’ll seal everything up, you won’t be able to get in! You NEED ME there! :

: Nahh, don’t worry ‘bout it. You just relax, take a load off, maybe take a nap, alright? : He chuckled at the angry response and closed his com, cutting the other off abruptly. Summoning up his strength he lifted his knee high and slammed back down, the thunderous impact denting the floor easier than he’d thought it would. He could see some seams appear and went in for them, digging his fingers in and pulling back with some effort, making an opening just inside of the warehouse doors. Once the floor was split open enough he knelt down to let the light of his pale blue biolights shine inside so he could see what exactly was hidden inside.

He could see stairs leading deep underground and into darkness, which was intriguing but also cause for concern. Thunderhoof gave one last hard yank to the thick sheet of flooring to be sure he had enough space for himself and his antlers to fit through. He made his way down the top of the stairs slowly, optics filtering through different settings and checking for heat signatures or motion. Seeing nothing but a deep staircase ahead and no obvious dangers he decided to test it for motion activated traps at least.

He took one last long satisfying drag on his cygar before he plucked it from his derma and flicked it far ahead of him. The glowing red tip bounced and streaked forward into the darkness, getting smaller and barely lighting the ground it settled on. He was satisfied to move a little faster now, at least able to see there was an end to the steps. When he arrived beside the device he lightly stamped it out and shifted his optic settings to night vision, which he regretted not getting better upgrades for when past opportunities had presented themselves.

The lack of full vision wouldn’t be an issue for long, it would seem. Only a few more steps into the sub-level and there was a heavy, distant rumble of systems powering on. His vision whited out and he hissed, realizing lights had come on. He switched back to his optical-standard and blinked a few times, now able to take in the long hallway he’d entered. It looked like a new addition to the building, something slapped together after Cybertron’s revival or possibly just recently upgraded to be as clean as it was.

The clean white and gray hallway led to a standard single door. It was so unassuming that it almost unnerved him. There had to be some trick to this, and he was tired of tricks. Thunderhoof approached the door quickly, his pace shifting into a jog and then a full speed run. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself with a pathetic call to Swindle for some stupid code! Round two of brute force was in full swing, lowering his upper body and levelling his sturdy rack to ram through. He slammed into the door and clipped the wall around it, smashing through just as he’d planned!

Thunderhoof righted himself and shook the dust from the concrete and loose shards of metal off, taking in the room he was now in. Massive windows, nearly floor to ceiling, were before him and on the other side was a dimly lit room. In the center of the darkened room there was the unmistakable shadow of a Cybertronian set on their knees, arms bound behind them by heavy-duty stasis cuffs, the kind one might see on a real rough-and-tumble bruiser. Whoever it was bound in that room was definitely someone who could potentially pose a problem if they were loosed, but he wasn’t planning on popping the cuffs any time soon so that shouldn’t be an issue.

A quick glance around revealed a side door to a potential back passage that connected to the door in the room. He noted that it seemed very similar to an Autobot interrogation room, all too familiar with those setups. After noting a lack of obvious overhead cameras, mostly out of habit, Thunderhoof approached the new door. He turned his back to it and kicked his right hoof into it, sending the door flying into the wall behind it. He could see the bot on the other side of the glass to his right shift, either hearing or feeling the vibration from the damage he was causing. Clearing there were not evident traps again he continued into the more narrow back hall and tried the door to the room with his hand, not wanting to risk sending it into the ‘package’ on the other side by mistake.

Rather than go all out he attempted to shoulder his way in, bumping his braced arm into it once, twice, and then a final stronger third hit had it breaking its locks and creaking open. It took some additional tugging to shove the door into the sliding track in the wall but at least it was open. Lights were activated by the movement of the mobster entering the room, which was a little surprising since there was someone already in the room? How still must they have been sitting to have not tripped the light sensor? He again looked to the mech to take him in with the better lighting and for a moment, just the _briefest_ moment, he felt his spark stall.


	3. Thunderhoof Gets What He Deserves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You just have to treat yourself sometimes, okay? I have no other description for this chapter.  
> DUBCON NOTICE!

The red and blue paint-job was the first thing to strike the mech, and then the size of the other was almost eerily similar to the mech he affiliated the color scheme to, but the mech’s body was the nail in the coffin for Thunderhoof. The leader of the Autobots from the longest war in Cybertronian history was just sitting on his knees, arms bound behind his back with a blindfold of some kind tied around his optics. He wasn’t gagged, so his deep-set frown was very apparent but he was refraining from speaking.

“You gotta be fraggin’ me,” he staggered back, signals crossing as he was staving off both panic and the need to brace for battle. The mech kneeling on the floor visibly tensed and clenched his fists, still trapped behind his back. He tilted his head enough to listen as Thunderhoof shuffled slowly around him, giving him a wide berth _just in case_ this was some backwards crazy setup.

“Optimus Prime,” he huffed a short laugh, optics still wide and mouth turning upwards slightly in a disbelieving smirk. “You can’t be, no, NO!” He laughed more as he realized the bound bot was not moving to attack or confront him. “WHAT A SIGHT!” He laughed more uproariously, clapping a servo against his quickly lifted right knee before he continued his circle around the other. He relaxed more, grew more confident the more he looked over the entire room and the other, just tied up and left to wait in a box to be passed off to someone.

“How in the pits did that little gremlin SWINDLE manage to get his grubby mits on YOU???!” He shook his helm and looked around the room, noticing only now that the windows he’d spied the other through were actually mirrored on the inside to prevent the captive from seeing anyone looking in. “Got you all tied up but no bow, huh? What a cheapskate,” he drawled and walked closer to the other, nearly at his side but keeping an eye on the other’s posture, how tense he was and if he was preparing to spring up or not.

“You,” Optimus spoke calmly, surprising the mafioso more than it ought to, “You’re a Decepticon, but you aren’t working with Swindle?” It had to be some attempt to sway him, Thunderhoof thought. Definitely. He was going to bargain or something, right? “You could let me go.” The buck bit back a snicker, pulling his lips inward and keeping quiet. “You could actively help me. You won’t be persecuted. If you _are_ working with Swindle, in some way, and you help me-”

“PFFFFFFFT HAHAHA-!” He couldn’t! He couldn’t take it anymore, it was too predictable! “You goody-two-shoes bots, I swear,” he wiped a tear of mirth from his eye and chuckled more, trying to calm down. He cleared his throat and moved right in front of Optimus, settling his pedes heavily and close to the Autobot’s knees. He dropped into a crouch much as he had earlier in front of Swindle. Optimus straightened his back more when he felt the rush of air on his front, sensing the other’s field extremely close and able to guess that he had lowered himself to be level with him. Thunderhoof didn’t see any extensive damage to him and hummed, tilting his head this way and that as he looked him over.

Feeling more comfortable and bold with the other being bound like this he raised a hand up and grasped the bot’s chin and jaw, holding it in a vice-like grip and glad for the choice to use force since he could feel Optimus try to pull back and away. He smirked, feeling all the more cocky that he couldn’t escape his servo. He forced his helm to the left and right, then tilted it up.

“Yeah, looks like they kept you in one piece, hardly a scratch on ya. Tell me, did they buff ya?” He snickered, not expecting any real response.

“You can do the right thing,” the Prime’s words were a little distorted by his squished-in-cheeks. “I implore you to make the right choice.”

“You tryin’ to tell me what I can and can’t do?!” Thunderhoof roared down at him, his short temper instantly lit by the mere IMPLICATION that someone might be trying to tell him how to do things. He shoved the other back, sending him teetering and losing his battle with gravity. He was laid back in a clearly uncomfortable and definitely vulnerable position, and the view did some sinfully pleasant things to the cerulean stag’s thoughts. “You’re not in any position to demand anything. You can’t even BARGAIN with me, you understand?!” He flared his plating out as he stamped over the downed Autobot, cloven hoof dangerously close to striking Optimus’s torso.

“You’re right,” Optimus tried patiently, keeping his back as straight as he could so he didn’t appear to be cowering or too defensive, simply laying still and waiting for whatever the other wanted to do or say.

“That’s right I’m right,” he sneered down at him and took in the sight of him, appreciating how the mech looked helpless. THE Optimus Prime laying helpless under him. Oof what an amazing sight! Movement from the Auobot’s legs had him reacting quickly, crashing a knee down across the other’s upper legs to finish pinning him. “Don’t even TRY,” he warned and slammed his palm down on the Prime’s throat to keep him back and loving how it forced him to bow his back over the bulk of his still-bound arms behind him.

With his prisoner still for the time being he took a moment to straighten his posture, one knee bent to the bot’s left and the other pressed hard over his lap, digits clamped securely over his throat. He caught his reflection in the one-way mirror and stilled. He looked so fragging hot like that, so POWERFUL. Of course he looked powerful, HE WAS powerful! He smirked down at the Autobot in his grip and flared his field out against the other, noting just how minutely his armor clamped down in response.

Every little response from the Autobot bolstered his ego, encouraged him. He tightened his grip and Prime grunted, he pressed his knee harder into the other’s thigh and Prime shifted his hip to try and alleviate it. Every tit-for-tat helped Thunderhoof grow hotter under the collar. He eased his hold slowly on the other’s neck, enjoying the sight of scuffs left behind and slight denting. He hummed thoughtfully, keeping his face shy of headbutting distance, as he leaned closer over his prey.

“I want you to look me in the optics, big guy.” He hooked a finger into the blindfold, tugging it down and over the other’s mouth. When the other’s battle mask snapped into place he yanked his hand back in surprise, the surprise quickly shifting to anger. “Yeah yeah, you pop your mask on, but you’re still gonna watch me.” He leaned closer and put his hand over the other’s helm, keeping Optimus craned back against the floor. “You’re lucky you’re such a looker.” He grinned. “Not as handsome as _me_ , but it's helping you more than you know.”

Optimus did a great job of hiding his confusion from his field, but his optics belied how he was searching for the meaning behind the other’s words. Thunderhoof gave a rude push to the bot’s head as he straightened up again, towering over the other and casting a menacing silhouette across the mighty Autobot leader’s frame. He couldn’t resist another glance at himself in the mirror, puffing and flexing even more at how pit-slagging POWERFUL he looked! How powerful he WAS!

“You’re in for a treat, Prime,” he narrowed his optics down at him, amusement still permeating his field which he pushed out over the other. “You layin’ there all helpless is really making me reconsider how I should, ah… _proceed_ with you.” Optimus only furrowed his brow in response, his silence continued to tickle the blue mech’s arrogance. “So mad, you must be fuming, huh? _Steamin’_ mad??” He was trying to lightly goad the other into getting angrier but didn’t seem to care whether or not it was actually working.

What a turn of events this day was turning out to be. Started with some bungled trades due to the inexperience of some of his new help, busted couch during his relaxation, to pinning down one of the strongest bots in the known galaxy. His mind back-tracked to his earlier attempt at enjoying his own company, and he again was admiring himself in the mirror. He chuckled as some dirty ideas crept through his processor and he settled on treating himself to some of the best optical stills he would ever commit to memory.

“When’s the last time anybody ever laid you flat, I wonder?” His tone dropped a bit lower as he leered down at the Prime. He lifted and swung his leg over so that rather than kneeling on the prisoner’s legs he was straddling them. “I can’t imagine what must me flyin’ through that mighty sharp processor of yours. Probably… ‘what is he gonna do now’?” He arched a brow and slipped his glossa out to slide over his denta as his grin widened, mouth watering at the thought of how great this would be. Oh the blackmail he could compile! His engine rumbled loudly, the vibration making Optimus frown more deeply and attempt to shift around.

Thunderhoof clamped his thighs together, utterly entrapping Optimus’s lower extremities from moving much. Blue plating flared more, heat being expelled in a light wash against the larger of the two. His panel was heating up fast and only aided by the shifts and strained movement below, strong legs managing to angle up and pressed to Thunderhoof’s modesty panel. He groaned pleasantly from the new pressure, shamelessly grinding against it in turn. His biolights flared brighter and another puff of heat left him as he settled back once more on Prime’s thighs.

“Hey~ yo~ slow down, what’s the rush?” He murmured huskily down at him, his lustful and amused field spreading wide and thick against Optimus. He chuckled briefly, “I’m still tryin’ to take this all in.” It seemed like he was considering something, eyeing the other’s frame and stopping over the bot’s face. He could feel the hint of a field below him; there was irritation, determination and… intrigue?Well that got him motivated for sure. “Ah, who am I kidding, I can’t say no to an eager face like that,” he laughed shortly and signaled his panel to retract.

His thick, gray spike pressurized easily before him, straining upward of its own accord. Fine red biolights pulsed lazily from beneath the segments on the underside, the top adorned with a pale blue-white strip of light. His nodes pulsed red beneath the gray surface mesh-metal, demanding attention. Optimus’s sapphire optics flared with a mix of surprise and understanding. Still not afraid, from his EM field, and that was good enough for the former ‘con.

“Like what you see, pretty boy?” Thunderhoof trailed a servo down, slowly connecting his index finger and thumb around the base of his chord, glancing from his spike to the Autobot’s gaze and more than a little proud that the other couldn’t seem to look away. He wasn’t struggling either, and that made his ego swell more.

“Of course you like it, you can’t tear your optics away.” He snorted and gripped himself firmly, dragging his hand slowly from the trapped base of his spike toward the tip. As his hand traveled along he added his other fingers as room was made, eventually fully holding onto his spike and working his palm all the way to the tip. He already had a bright, pink, semi-clear bead of transfluid peeking out from the tip of his spike for all of his excitement. The milking pressure of his servo built up the single drop of fluid more until gravity took hold of the droplet and slowly carried it downward toward the Prime’s pelvic span; The thin string snapped, the tiny bit of transfluid landing and making Optimus shudder minutely.

The sensation of his own servo over his spike was familiar but strangely more exhilarating than before. It was more intense knowing that someone else was watching and not getting anything out of it. He was positive Optimus was impressed to some degree and that thought just made him so much hotter and harder. His core temperature began to kick up as his charge climbed higher, his processor too flooded with how pleased he was with himself to mind his cooling system automatically switching on.

Thunderhoof let his free hand rest on his left thigh, curling inward to work into his hidden cabling. He started to capture some optical stills, leaning back to peer down his chest at how his fingers perfectly surrounded a good length of his spike, his hand perched on his leg prettily, and Optimus laying underneath him with optics trained on the other’s handiwork.

“Nobody’s gonna believe me if I just told ‘em you laid back and watched me touch myself,” he chuckled and worked his hand up and down a little faster, slowing at the base and giving a slow squeeze that eased as he pulled it back toward the tip. Optimus seemed to snap out of whatever daze he’d been in and planted his pedes down heavily, pushing his hips and torso upward. Thunderhoof didn’t even budge, throwing his helm back with a laugh as the other’s thighs merely shifted upward before he fell back down to his starting position.

“Come on, you don’t want to just enjoy yourself? I bet you’re getting hot, too.” He didn’t actually bother trying to verify his claim, just continued to capture and stash away the sight before him. His nodes were more tender than they were earlier considering he’d already satisfied his spike once today. He didn’t think he could get so amped under his own touch, but he’d never been presented with such a unique situation. He really put some effort into the final capture, leaning back more and lining his spike up within his sights just right.

From Thunderhoof’s perspective peering past the expanse of his chest he took in how his light gray torso narrowed just before meeting his lighter cool blue pelvic span. The kibble of his pelvic plating had parted symmetrically from the front center to opposing sides to make way for his cord. He’d managed to position himself just right, his Spike overlapping the view of the Prime’s angry gaze to make it very clear just who he was with. No one could deny that this would have taken an immense amount of effort to edit together. He resumed his eager pumping, going faster than he’d been this whole time, as he admired the sight. He’d even gotten a shadow cast below it, hell yeah!

“You look so good like that, Prime,” he grinned arrogantly down at him, forcing Optimus to meet his optics with his spike between them. It was too fragging amazing, seeing those icy optics honed in on him and only him. His pace was firm and sure, not going crazy fast but holding tight enough to constantly brush against each node and tug and pull his spike’s segments, working the minute amounts of precum over himself and making the slide easier as he continued.

Optimus seemed calm enough, which the mobster was grateful for in the back of his mind, so he put himself more forward on the other’s body. The larger red and blue bot again tried to free himself by bucking his hips to free his legs. The sudden impact of his pelvis into Thunderhoof’s had them both frozen and staring at each other for far longer than the Prime would have preferred. The grin that spread across the stag’s face had Optimus growing more irritated that he was enjoying this so much.

“Now _that_ ’s the spirit,” he growled and eased his weight down, forcing the Autobot’s hips lower and back onto the floor under his weight. His valve was threatening to overflow past the still-sealed cover and he had to fight the urge to open it up. Another strike like that-oh… Actually, on second thought. The panels snicked to either side, allowing his sensitive mesh to come into contact to the other’s panel directly. The hard, unyielding surface was so much better than he thought it would be. It took a couple of slow, grinding ruts for the realization to creep into the Prime’s optics. As soon as Thunderhoof recognized the look he started grinding with more determination and purpose.

“Don’t worry, big guy, you can let yourself have some fun. Ey, I wouldn’t even be offended if you ah, wanted to open yourself up as well. What do ya say? Hm?” He pressed his weight down and back, letting his left servo plant itself solidly against Optimus’s windshield while his other fist became pinned between them, fingers still barely able to move in that position.

“I want no such thing,” he rumbled his furious response, the heat in his words only serving to arouse his assailant more.

“Ooh, you sound so good all fired up,” he chuckled and rut against him harder. “Keep talkin’? You like giving-unf- speeches don’t you?” He shivered as his spike began to throb. His valve clenched needily, only being rewarded when he rolled his hips upward more and managed to grind his exterior node against the bot’s plating.

“You will be punished severely for this-” Thunderhoof shivered visibly, optics flickering before flaring brighter.

“Oh yeah??”

“You’ll have to answer for this-this crime,” he paused to avoid stammering again. “It is _beyond_ appalling that you would take advantage of someone-”

“Uhhuh,” he hissed and worked his hips faster, his fist pumping faster and tighter over his slick spike.

“-But to enjoy yourself in such a disturbing manner-”

“Ohf-f-frag,” he growled, his voice lower and more husky in his heat.

“-is entirely _**unforgivable**_.” His engine rumbled in his anger and it sent Thunderhoof over the edge, the bot rocking forward and tensing. Fluid poured from his valve, trickling down the Prime’s thighs and further onto the floor. It took a few short, tight finishing strokes to peak. His orgasm hit him like a train, heat pulsing through him as he came over the Prime. He didn’t know if he’d shuttered his optics or if they’d blown entirely until the immense waves of pleasure finished running through him. The zaps and jolts of excess charge tingled his seams throughout his core and down to the tip of his spike and the fingers still massaging lightly over it.

He cycled through his sensornet to restart his optics, vision blurry for a second or two but clearing up to yet another amazing visual treat. He snapped another optic-feed still to save for as long as his processor would be able to hold it. Optimus was definitely warmer than when Thunderhoof first mounted him, though it would be debatable between them of WHY, and his plating was splattered with ropes of fresh pink transfluid.

“Oh Prime, you’re a _sight_!” He declared proudly. “I’m half tempted to give you a second chance if you want to relieve some steam. Only if you want to??” The blue buck accentuated the teasing question with slow rubs of his over-sensitive valve against the Autobot’s sealed panel. Optimus revved his engine in warning, finally allowing his field to snap outward. It was the sharpest whip of pointed anger he’d felt in some time. “Aw, you don’t gotta be that way,” he dared to lean down and stare directly into his optics. “You’re a handsome guy,” he was trying not to sound like he was insisting. “I wouldn’t tell anybody if you had a little moment of weakness. It’d be understandable, I mean…” He arched a brow and nodded his head down at himself as if he would be more than enough reason for someone to be turned on.

Something distracted them both from continuing their dialogue, something like… clapping? Multiple servos, multiple SETS of servos clapping?? Thunderhoof let his spike retract and closed himself up completely before standing quickly. Optimus was about to move but the former con already planted a cloven pede down on his torso; it was uncertain if he had placed it more over the bot’s pelvis intentionally.

“HEY WHO’S OUT THERE WANTING TO GET SLAGGED?!” He stared angrily at his reflection in the… the one way mirror. Anger swelled over him at whoever dared to sit behind the glass and WATCH him! He didn’t care if he was the one who chose to do such a thing in such a place… it was just plain wrong to EAVESDROP! He had standards!

He only waited another second before snapping his arm upward, servo transforming into a modified blaster. OH PRIMUS, he was PISSED now. He hadn’t been able to clean his slagging servo off, he could feel his transfluid in places it shouldn’t be.

“Whoa-boss! Wait wait!” That was definitely the voice of one of his guys. He growled, charging his weapon up anyway. The mirror vanished, the mech on the other side having hit something to switch it, and revealed the MULTIPLE bots on the other side that had gathered for WHO KNOWS how long into the mobster’s performance. All of them looked… pleased. It was a mixed bag, sure, of those that looked amused, pleased, or even a little embarrassed but still standing ready and waiting for him to finish up.

“Hey hey I DIDN’T TELL YOU ALL TO CONVENE HERE?! What GIVES?! HUH?!” He snarled.

“You called us, told the others to call everyone in?” The one at the console seemed unsure if it was what the other wanted to hear but it was true. “They didn’t know where you wanted us and you weren’t on your comms… We just tracked you here.” Thunderhoof scowled, barely lowering his blaster but not any less furious.

“That was a hell of a show, boss,” one of the others chimed in and another laughed, yet another gave a whistle. Well… that wasn’t so bad, he supposed. Thunderhoof transformed his weapon back into his servo and non-discretely tried to flick any remaining transfluid off of it.

“Yeah well,” he drawled, preening and puffing his plating out a little, rolling his helm to crack his neck. “You gotta keep bots in their place, and I never back down.” He frowned again. “Well don’t just stand around like a buncha lumps! Move your afts, get this schmuck in a container and keep him tied up. Get something to uh,” he waved over the other’s legs, “keep him from squirmin and bouncin’ around. He’s a feisty one.”

Only once several of his guys were on top of the Prime did he step off of him and supervise. Optimus didn’t speak, seeming to know that his demands would fall on deaf audials. Quite pleased with himself, moreso when he got a couple of pats to his back and shoulders from his mechs, he started out of the room and through the rubble he’d made when he first entered.

“What next, boss?” One called over from where they were kneeling and binding the Autobot’s knees together.

“Don’t let a single optic off of him,” he warned but didn’t sound irritated at all. “I gotta go thank my good buddy for his unusually _generous_ gift. About time I got what I deserved.”


End file.
